


dreams of clean teeth

by alovelessgame



Series: kissing the tar [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Barebacking, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, M/M, Overstimulation, Pining, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Unsafe Sex, well more like sex glitter but the trope still applies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alovelessgame/pseuds/alovelessgame
Summary: He finally rests a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, nowhere sensitive, but Jamie shudders under it just the same. “Whatever you need,” Tyler promises, and doesn’t quail under Jamie’s searching look. “It’s you and me, remember?”(or: Jamie gets sex glitter poisoning and Tyler is totally absolutely definitely just helping a friend out, no pining required)





	dreams of clean teeth

**Author's Note:**

> 17 months since my last fic and i write rimming. sound good, sounds right.
> 
> title is from "400 lux" by lorde, which i listened to obsessively whilst writing this

In Tyler’s defense, he didn’t know that the siren was going to try to eat him.

Sarah was by and far the most stunningly beautiful person in the bar, which should’ve been Tyler’s first clue that there was something not quite right about her, but she accepted his proffered drink and was nice enough to laugh at his corny pick up line. The bar was so full it was almost claustrophobic, a mix of regulars and stupid college students who wanted to brag that they’d spent the night drinking amongst Dallas’ supernatural population.

“You wanna get out of here?” Sarah asks, leaning close to be heard over the shitty band playing in the corner. Whatever perfume she’s wearing hits Tyler like a crosscheck to the head, and he barely manages to keep from tipping off his bar stool.

They’ve only been here about ten minutes – some of the guys are still waiting in the corner booth for the drinks Tyler came to get, but he finds himself nodding in agreement anyway. Sarah smiles in pleasure, running her long fingernails up under his shirt sleeve, chasing the lines of his tattoos. “Oh, I can already tell you’re going to be fun to play with.”

“Well, that sounds kinda ominous,” Tyler jokes and then falters when she doesn’t laugh along. He clears his throat, glancing back at the guys. If he’s leaving this early, the least he can do is bring them the pitchers of beer he’s already paid for. “Let me just tell my –”

“No,” Sarah says, and she’s suddenly so close that Tyler’s vision blurs trying to keep her face in focus. “You don’t need their permission.”

“I’m not asking for their _permission_.” It’s just that he hadn’t planned on picking up tonight – god only knows he can feel the back-to-back games they’ve just played in his very bones – and he’d made tentative plans that mostly involved eating ice cream, packing ice on his knees, and a marathon of _The Bachelorette_.

Sarah smiles, her teeth a little pointier than the average human, but Tyler blinks and they’re back to normal. There’s a feeling of unease trickling down his spine, an unconscious tensing that’s saved his ass a few times when it came to picking fights with the wrong kind of beings. Whatever Sarah is, it’s the kind that chews people like Tyler up and spits them back out only if they’re very, very lucky.

“Look,” he says, slowly edging off his stool. “I think you’re great and all, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Sarah’s eyes narrow, and Tyler shivers as the ambient temperature drops about twenty degrees. “I don’t think you have much choice now, baby.” She glows under the bar’s neon lights like she just stepped out of the ocean.

Tyler glances down at his soaked shirt sleeve, the water droplets following the exact same path Sarah traced with her hand. A brand if he’s ever seen one. “No means no, lady,” he says, but even he can hear the tremor in his voice.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah says, standing up and smoothing out her dress. Tyler tries to stay seated, but something jerks him to his feet like a marionette on a string. “You’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

“I –” Tyler starts to argue, when he feels a warm body press against his back. It takes just a split second for Tyler to recognize the spicy cologne that Jamie always uses way too much of, before he consciously relaxes back against him, Jamie’s hands coming around to rest on his hips.

“Back off,” Jamie snarls over his shoulder at Sarah, and everyone within hearing distance rapidly takes a step backward. Sarah twitches, like she was about to obey the order, but rights herself with a venomous glare. “Find someone else to feed off of.”

And see, the fact that Jamie is a born werewolf wasn’t a secret to god or his mother, but he never _flaunted _his powers. Sure, he could bench a thousand pounds and end any kind of fight in two seconds flat, but he never walked around like some of the other wolves – snapping their canines or flashing their eyes to scare the humans, using brute force to get their way. Jamie was a total dork who just happened to eat a shit ton of red meat and didn’t play games on full moons, when his strength was a little harder to control.

But this? This was Jamie royally _pissed_.

Sarah glances around the crowd, checking for a pack. “I’ve claimed him, little wolf,” she sneers when she realizes that Jamie is alone. Tyler has never missed Jordie as much as he does right now. “If you wanted him, you should’ve marked him.”

Jamie’s hands spasm tight around his hips, and Tyler groans against the ache. “He’s not anyone’s to _claim_, fish.” Jamie fists one hand in Tyler’s sleeve and rips it clear with a rough jerk. Tyler opens his mouth to complain about the wanton destruction of his wardrobe, but his jaw snaps shut when Jamie vigorously rubs his exposed arm, stick callouses catching on Tyler’s smoother skin. It takes a couple of passes, but the claiming finally dislodges, water droplets hitting the floor and soaking into the rough wood. Tyler feels like his knees are going to buckle with relief.

Sarah looks nearly apoplectic, her sharp teeth bared and her hair dripping. The bar is so quiet that Tyler can hear her teeth grinding together. “You can act chivalrous all you want, you mangy dog, but I can smell the truth.”

Tyler doesn’t understand what she’s talking about, but Jamie suddenly tenses and uses his grip on Tyler to shove him away. Tyler hits the floor, nearly taking a couple of the other patrons down with him and turns just in time to see Sarah throw something in Jamie’s face. Tyler has a second to hysterically wonder why she brought fucking glitter to a bar fight, until Jamie screams and starts to claw frantically at his face.

“What did you do?” Tyler cries, scrambling back to his feet. Jamie’s screams have turned into snarls and his hands keep swiping at his eyes. Tyler can see the gold starting to glow through where his normal chocolate brown should be. “What the fuck was that stuff?”

Sarah smiles, sniffing in disdain at the way Jamie is kneeling on the floor. “He thought he was so much better than me,” she explains, gathering her coat off the back of her stool and pulling it on. The salt water on her skin soaks it through almost immediately. “Now you’ll finally see what he _truly _is.”

“Make it stop!” Tyler demands, but Sarah is already making her way out the door, the whispering crowd parting around her. Everything in him screams to grab her, shake her, force her to undo whatever she just did to Jamie, but Tyler is too fucking terrified to touch her again. It’s a total coward move, but he just stands there and watches the door swing shut behind her.

Jamie is still kneeling on the floor by the bar, snarling softly into his palms. Tyler crouches down next to him and tugs on his fingers, trying to dislodge them. “Jamie…Jamie, you gotta let me see.” Jamie shakes his head, barely even swaying when Tyler puts his whole body into trying to force his hands from his face. “We gotta wash that shit out.”

“Washing it out won’t help,” Jamie says, his voice slurring like he’s sixteen shots deep. “I just need to go home.”

“You need to see Zeis at the very least,” Tyler counters, motioning towards where Spezz and Burger are edging closer. Rads is gone, probably already alerting management and PR about what happened tonight. “Can you guys call an ambulance or something?”

“_No_!” Jamie snarls. Tyler flinches, but stays firmly in place even though every instinct is screaming at him to scramble away. “No,” Jamie repeats, softer this time. “They can’t help me. Just take me home, Seggy.”

Jamie keeps his face hidden, but Tyler can feel the way he tenses, waiting for the fight. It’s the distant sounds of sirens that finally force him into action, hauling Jamie up by his shirt and leading him, stumbling and snarling through the sea of still silent witnesses. “Give me your car keys,” Tyler hisses and Burger tosses them to him without a word. “Don’t wait around here. Go a few blocks up and then call an Uber from there.”

“Do you need any help with him?” Spezz asks. It’s a tempting offer, but Tyler can feel the way Jamie’s chest vibrates around the sub-vocal growl at Spezza being so close.

“Nah,” Tyler says, trying, and probably failing, to sound like he’s not losing his ever-loving shit. “I’ll take care of this.”

*

It isn’t until they stumble through his front door that Tyler realizes Jamie probably meant _his _home. By then it’s too late; the boys are raising hell and crowding around them and Tyler is ashamed to admit that he brought Jamie here without even thinking about how they would react, when Jamie hits his knees and wraps his arms around Gerry’s wriggling body. The Lab is practically vibrating with excitement, twisting and turning to try to lick Jamie on the face.

“Hey, buddy,” Jamie murmurs into his ruff, and Tyler feels something in his chest constrict the way it always does when he sees how Jamie is with his boys. It isn’t a new feeling. Marshall and Cash press close even though they get a few tail smacks to the face for their proximity to Gerry. “I’ve missed you guys.”

Tyler waits quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It takes a few minutes, but Jamie finally looks up and Tyler can see him clearly for the first time since the fight. His dark brown eyes have bled into a golden yellow, his already broad shoulders spreading even wider, his teeth too sharp to be wholly human.

But he’s still Jamie.

“Take me upstairs,” Jamie slurs around a tongue a little too long, and Tyler tries to ignore the jolt he feels. It’s words he’s always wanted to hear from Jamie, but the context is so _wrong_ that it makes him feel sick. Tyler takes a moment to sequester the boys, pulling the baby gate across the bottom landing despite their whimpered protests, and goes upstairs to find Jamie already standing at the foot of his bed.

“So, what do we do now?” The moon is nearly full tonight, its light leaking through the pulled curtains. Jamie is staring at the patterns it makes on the carpet, seemingly lost in his own little world. Tyler clears his throat and tries again. “You need to tell me what to do, Jamie. I’m kind of at a loss here.”

Jamie doesn’t look any more transformed than he was downstairs, but his voice is somehow deeper, resonant in his chest. “I need you to take the dogs and go.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. “Fuck that,” Tyler snorts, because he’s never been accused of having a healthy survival instinct. “You think I’m just gonna leave you here alone?”

Jamie lunges across the room so fast he nearly blurs, his golden eyes flashing, and teeth bared. Tyler’s heart literally stops beating, but he manages to stand his ground. He knows a dominance display when he sees one. “I need you to go,” Jamie repeats, slowly, like Tyler is a particularly stupid child. “I’ll be okay here. The scent will probably be enough.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. He’s been around the Benn brothers long enough to know how important scenting is to werewolves. Hell, he spent most of his first weeks with the team wedged into their armpits as they tried to erase the smell of Boston from his skin. “Why would you need my scent, but not me?”

It’s a perfectly fair question, which is why Jamie’s gutted expression makes no sense. “Tyler, I need –” he starts to say, but something cuts him off. Tyler can feel the warmth of his exhale. “I can’t have you here for this.”

Tyler does his best to swallow the hurt. “You’ve never tried to keep a secret from me before,” he whispers into the strained silence. “Why this one?”

The question takes something out of Jamie, his shoulders slouching under its weight. Tyler reaches out but hesitates, not sure if he’s allowed to touch. He finally rests a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, nowhere sensitive, but Jamie shudders under it just the same. “Whatever you need,” Tyler promises, and doesn’t quail under Jamie’s searching look. “It’s you and me, remember?”

Jamie’s eyes shutter closed, a strangled whine coming from deep within his gut. He leans into Tyler’s touch, crowding close, nudging the tip of his nose into the fine hairs of Tyler’s temple. Tyler relaxes into it, used to the huff of Jamie’s breath on his face, the slow exploratory scenting. Jordie didn’t do this for his last couple of years in Dallas, content to clap Tyler on the shoulder and maybe give him a noogie to reestablish the bond that faded a bit with the off-season distance. But Tyler could always tell that Jamie needed something _more_, even if he never asked for it, so it had fallen on Tyler to reach out and insert himself into Jamie’s space.

It was usually quick, a simple scenting of his head and neck, maybe a few minutes pressed close under Jamie’s arm until their scents were mingled enough that Jamie could relax. Jamie would always talk through it, as if his voice could dispel the inherent awkwardness that came along with rubbing your scent onto your human best friend, usually chirps about Tyler smelling like the fish he’d caught that summer or the stale recycled air from the plane home.

But now, Jamie is silent.

Tyler hums, running his hands from the top of Jamie’s trapezius to his shoulder blades and back again, a slow steady pressure. Jamie’s mouth is open against the side of his face, lips skimming across the sensitive skin of his jawline, beards catching and sliding together. “It’s okay,” Tyler whispers, a shiver running down his spine at the way Jamie stills. “I got you. It’s okay, Jamie.”

Tyler is a big enough dude that not many people can pick him up and throw him across the room, which is why the brief seconds between his feet leaving the carpet and his back hitting the bed six feet away is such a surprise. His loud, and admittedly insulted, shout barely has time to leave his lungs before Jamie is crawling on top of him. Sharp fingers catch and tear at Tyler’s shirt, buttons ricocheting off the headboard and seams popping.

“I liked that shirt,” Tyler mutters mutinously, but leans up willingly when Jamie wraps a hand around the back of his neck. His lips are chapped from being out on the ice and his tongue is still a little too large to fit, but it’s a deep and dirty kiss, tender and heated.

Jamie pushes Tyler back into the mattress with a hand on his shoulder, rolling his hips down and groaning when their hardening cocks slide together. “You look better without it.”

Tyler gasps against the friction. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Jamie smiles, moonlight glinting off his glowing eyes and sharpened teeth, and kisses him again, hard and messy. Tyler whines when Jamie’s mouth slides away, teeth leaving a stinging trail down his chest before stopping at his jeans.

“Don’t even think –” Tyler starts to warn, but sharp claws hook into the waistband, shredding it with a single jerk. Jamie looks utterly unrepentant, stripping the scraps of fabric off and tossing it over the side of the bed, his eyes dark and intent on Tyler spread out beneath him.

Anything else Tyler might’ve said dies a slow squeaking death when Jamie leans down, rubbing his beard against Tyler’s inner thigh and delivering a quick nip. He bypasses Tyler’s cock, just inches from his mouth, sucking wet bruises into Tyler’s thighs before sliding his tongue across Tyler’s hole.

It’s been so long since Tyler’s been rimmed that he whines and jerks under Jamie, feeling a long finger slide in alongside the wet, writhing tongue. It feels amazing, and Tyler threads his fingers through Jamie’s hair, clenching tight at the sound of Jamie’s groan. “Please…please…” he begs, anything to relieve the winding tightness at the base of his spine.

Jamie pulls out his tongue with an obscene noise, the finger unerringly finding Tyler’s prostate and giving it a pulsing rub. “Touch yourself.”

Tyler blanks out for a second, shuddering under the pleasurable assault. “Wait, why?”

The finger begins to retreat and Tyler cries out, clenching down to try to keep Jamie inside. “Alright, alright, I’ll do it!” He wraps a hand around his cock, fingers bumping into Jamie’s nose from where he’s muscled back in between Tyler’s thighs. It takes a moment for Tyler to realize that Jamie is following his rhythm, his slick tongue only moving as fast as Tyler is pulling at himself.

Tyler barely lasts a minute before he starts stroking tight and fast, Jamie fucking into him as deep and brutal as he can. They find a messy rhythm, Jamie working another finger in as a reward when Tyler starts stroking even faster. His breath is coming in ragged and sobbing pants and then Tyler shudders, legs trembling and twisting down onto Jamie’s tongue as he comes all over his belly.

Jamie chuckles, the dark sound sending a fresh shiver up Tyler’s spine. Jamie bullies Tyler’s thighs open, pressing him down into the mattress with his own body weight, Tyler’s come spread between them. “What do you think? Loose enough after that for me to fuck you?”

Tyler weakly groans his assent and Jamie doesn’t wait for a more coherent answer, just drags his cockhead across the come on Tyler’s belly and starts to push into him. Tyler winces at the pressure – he’s still tight enough that there’s a slight drag but he doesn’t flinch from the stretch, remembering his promise. Wolfed out, Jamie is big enough to make Tyler feel like he’s choking on it but he just pushes down and spreads his legs further apart, Jamie’s rough hands hooking under his thighs.

“Jesus Christ, Tyler,” Jamie groans, pressing his teeth to the soft meat of Tyler’s neck. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

He sounds earnest enough that Tyler allows himself one second to fantasize that this is happening under different circumstances. One in which Jamie wasn’t compromised by evil sex glitter and Tyler wasn’t the closest warm body. Thankfully, he’s saved from having to say anything when Jamie slides all the way in, so fucking deep, and rolls his hips.

Tyler struggles to catch a breath when Jamie starts thrusting, grinding rhythm not faltering even as he runs a hand down Tyler’s stomach, collecting what’s left of his come and wrapping his hand around Tyler’s soft cock. The sensation is almost too much, leaving Tyler in between flinching away and grinding closer.

“Come on,” Jamie grunts, rolling his hips, hand tightening until Tyler gasps and groans under him.

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t,” Tyler whines, even though he’s mostly hard now, hips twitching between the hand on his cock and Jamie’s thrusts. Jamie presses in just right, making Tyler buck into his grip and bite his lip to muffle the whines trying to escape.

Jamie sits back, the angle better to fuck even deeper, watching his cock shiny with come, and Tyler stretched out around it. “God, I knew you’d be beautiful like this,” Jamie mutters, and Tyler can feel his face flame – although whether it’s out of the desperation building or Jamie’s words is anyone’s guess. “Does it hurt? Too much?”

Tyler just shakes his head, too far gone for words, as Jamie fucks in faster and deeper. It feels like Jamie is forcing the precome out of him, sliding through his gaping slit and smoothing the sliding motion of his hand. The second orgasm hits so much harder than the first and Tyler bites down on his own fist, trembling all over as a weak spurt of come smears his chest, his balls a vaguely tender pain.

Jamie groans, fingers tightening on Tyler’s hips, and grinds close, coming with a snarl. Tyler shudders at the sudden warmth and frictionless slide of his cock, groaning when Jamie shifts his hips and slips his half-hard cock out. He idly strokes a finger over Tyler’s red and swollen hole, using his thumb to collect what’s leaked out and push it back in.

Tyler closes his eyes, because he _can’t _see the intense but gentle look on Jamie’s face and go back to the way things used to be between them. His cock lies sore on his hip and he’s absolutely covered in come, but he slips into a doze, clenching down on Jamie’s wandering finger. Jamie chuckles, sliding up from between Tyler’s legs and nuzzling his chest, scenting the smell of _them_ on his skin. Tyler knows he must be disgusting but there isn’t much point when Jamie might need him again during the night.

The thought wakes Tyler up enough for him to snatch at Jamie’s hair, pulling his head away. Jamie growls in disappointment. “You need anything like this again, you come to me? Got it?”

Jamie huffs in amusement. “Of course.”

“Good,” Tyler slurs, and promptly falls asleep.

*

Tyler wakes up to the sun in his face, stuck to the sheets, and terribly alone. It takes a couple of tries to roll out of bed and wince-walk his way into the bathroom, turning up the hot water to near scalding levels. He has just enough time for a quick cry before he goes downstairs to let the dogs out and get their breakfast, and maybe have a couple of liters of alcohol delivered for a one-day pity party –

“Oh,” Tyler says, because Jamie is currently standing in his kitchen, shirtless and cooking an omelet. The boys are all crowded around his feet and Jamie’s head jerks up, caught in the act of sneaking them ham cubes.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Jamie says, and is immediately made out to be a liar by Cash’s begging bark. Jamie’s eyes follow Tyler as he sits at the bar, wincing slightly. He looks caught between satisfaction and shame. “Sorry if I was a bit…rough last night.” There’s a slump to his shoulders that he only gets when he’s ashamed of letting the wolf out.

Tyler shrugs it off. “Last time I checked I was asking for it.”

It’s surprising to see Jamie blush after everything they did together last night, but the bright red tips of his ears are unmistakable as he ducks back towards the stove. He starts to hum a slightly tone-deaf version of the latest pop song on the radio and Tyler silently marvels at all the ways this morning is refusing to turn out the way he thought it would, those first few moments he lay alone in bed.

“So last night took care of the whole –” he circles his index finger in front of his eyes because saying _evil sex glitter _at eight in the morning is a little bit much even for him.

“Oh,” Jamie says, subtly trying to slip another chunk of ham to Gerry despite the fact that Tyler is staring right at him. “Yeah, I woke up and everything was back to normal.”

Tyler breathes through a sudden spike of pain at the phrasing. “Good. I guess that means you won’t need my help again. Unless you manage to piss off another siren in a seedy bar defending my honor which, let’s be honest, is a definite possibility.”

Jamie plates the finished omelet and sets it in front of Tyler. It’s big enough that Jamie must’ve had to go out early to buy more eggs, and its more ham and cheese than egg. It’s an utter abomination, but he looks so proud that Tyler doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s the ugliest things he’s ever seen.

“I could provide for you, you know,” Jamie says, before he can take a bite.

Tyler stares at him and then at the omelet and then back at him. “No offense, Chubbs, but I think I’d die of heart disease at 30 if you cooked my food for me.”

Jamie looks like he doesn’t know how to take that, his face all scrunched up. “I didn’t mean – I mean, I can take care of you.”

“I am very confused right now,” Tyler says, staring at the dogs for help and/or a translation.

“Never mind,” Jamie mutters, shoving a fork into the gelatinous mass. “It’s just…a wolf thing.” But the words have a definite air of earnestness about them that defies Jamie’s attempts to downplay it.

Tyler grabs a fork, searching for the most cooked portion for himself. He wasn’t blessed with the iron stomach of a wolf. “I could take care of you, too, you know,” he finally says, quietly. He isn’t sure if the words are the right ones until the incandescent smile lights up Jamie’s face. Tyler spears a piece of ham and uses it to punctuate his next question. “Now why am I thinking those are loaded statements in wolf?”

Jamie ducks his head, but his smile hasn’t diminished. He takes a big bite and says through macerated egg yolk, “I’ll tell you later.” His dumb hair is sticking straight up and he’s stuffing his mouth with something that can only tentatively be called food and Tyler has never been so in love with him.

“Alright,” Tyler finally says, tossing the scrap of ham in his mouth. “I can live with that.”


End file.
